


TMNT Drabbles

by FeeFido



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Character Death, Cloaca, M/M, Sibling Incest, Trans Donatello, Turtlecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeeFido/pseuds/FeeFido
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suck at writing but occasionally I'll crap something out on my tumblr because I can and no one's around to stop me. This is just a collection of those things. None of these are beta'd, are usually Don-centric, and they will almost always contain turtlecest, so take that as your warning. Will update tags as needed. Rated M overall for content.</p>
<p>Latest chapter: Harder (Raph/Don)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confess (Don/Raph)

**Author's Note:**

> Donatello/Raphael, prompted with "Confess".

After they were assured Splinter would be okay, the exhaustion was finally allowed to set in. In some, more than others.

The affects of their adrenaline overdose only lasted Raphael’s brothers so long, and after that the three were left running on dwindling fumes and scared nerves as they fought the Shredder. Now, they couldn’t even make it to their room, let alone stand without dropping like flies.

Raph helped drag each of his brothers into their respective beds, despite his own exhaustion and the pain felt in his shell as he hefted them across the lair. He even went as far as to throw a blanket over them before moving on to the next.

First Leo, mumbling his thanks the entire way before being muffled underneath a thick comforter, then Mikey, who was already snoring on Raph’s shoulder by the time they got to his bed, and lastly Donnie, who seemed the most out of it of the three, yet still somehow awake.

As he helped him down onto the bed, the younger turtle stared up at him with an unreadable expression glazed over by exhaustion and fatigue. As Raphael plucked the glasses off his face, Donnie mumbled distantly at the hazy image of his brother, already half asleep, “Back there, you said you loved us.”

Raph scoffed, feeling his face heat up remembering his little spill as he tossed a blanket over the genius. “Yeah,” he started, “and you confessed to ruining my poptarts, ya thief.” He’d rather not think about what had happened back there, seconds away from an impending death, thinking that they would be the last he would ever share with his brothers. Traces of that same fear still swam in his veins even now as he finished tucking his last brother in for the night. His brother, his speaking, breathing, home in his bed and very much alive, brother.

Setting the ridiculous glasses aside, he reached for the purple knot on the back of Don’s head, pulling it loose and removing it from his face.

Their visions crossed, and Raphael quickly looked the other way before he could stop himself, putting the purple cloth down to join the other’s glasses.

"You’re my brothers… of course I love you, you know that."

Don paused, considering his words.

"Hmm, yeah, s’pose that’s true," Donnie mumbled into his pillow as he pulled the blanket higher around himself, his eyes finally slipping closed as he settled in.

Raphael continued to stand there a few moments longer, waiting for the sound of even breaths before shuffling over to his own bed opposite of Donnie’s, shedding his gear as he went.

As he laid back and pulled his sheet over himself, Donnie whispered from across from him, “Raph?”

"Hmm?"

"I love you, too."


	2. Collar (OT4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OT4, Don-centric, collars, dom/sub dynamics outside the bedroom, slight masochism(?), nothing graphic though.
> 
> Something that's self-indulgent of my own kink.
> 
> Which is collars... and, not technically in the sexual sense.
> 
> More like a... hey, it helps me feel grounded/protected/loved sorta way.
> 
> Was really sleep deprived when I wrote this, and I got really lazy near the end, so it's not the best quality...

It’s old, made of faded black leather and a single d chain; it’s lost it’s use and needs to be adjusted every morning so that it again fits snugly around his neck after a night of tossing and turning and yet again every evening before being put to bed. Not tight enough to hinder his movement or cause any discomfort during training, just enough so that he knows it’s there, dragging along his skin with every turn of his head and pressing tighter to his throat with every swallow. Never enough to hurt, only to remind.

It’s old, but it’s special, and it’s theirs.

\- - -

Donatello has the freedom to tighten and adjust the collar as he pleases, can even take it off if he so wants to, but he rarely does, if ever, choosing instead to seek out his brothers to do it for him; not out of command or fear, but simply out of preference.

He likes having his brothers do it for him, likes the sense of finality in their movements as they tighten the leather around his neck every morning before practice and every evening after dragging him from the computer and to his bed. It warms him to the core just to feel their fingers at his bared neck, stroking and prodding where the offered skin meets worn leather, hooking around the single chain and pulling him obediently along at their whim. Their ability to force his mind to shut down and completely give himself in to them was like his shelter in the storm, his steady ground when all else was falling beneath him and his mind too active to sleep at night.

Wearing the collar wouldn’t carry the weight that it did without their participation.

\- - -

"C’mon Donnie, it’s late," between the laptop being suddenly closed in his face and his chair being pulled out from under the desk, Donatello didn’t have time to form a proper reaction in his head, instead sputtering stupidly on his excuses, reaching out for his desk again before two fingers wiggled their way underneath his collar and pulled him up from his seat.

Any apparent agitation in the mutant bubbled down below the surface the moment the leather tightened around his neck, and was moved to get him standing and away from his work.

"None of that now. Time for bed, brainiac."

Don sighed in annoyance, but made no other move to resist as he was grudgingly tugged away from his precious technology. "I was in the middle of something important, Raph,” He said as he managed to steal one last fleeting glance at the abandoned desk before being led out of the room on shuffling feet.

"Whatever it is, it can wait for tomorrow, but right now you need to sleep before Leo throws another fit about it."

Donnie almost pouted. Almost.

Staring at the back of his brother”s shell, he considered for a moment lying to Raph, making up some story about a security update or performing maintenance on the vents giving them their air circulation, something that would let him back to his computer under the ruse of doing something important, rather than continuing playing his interrupted game, even for a few minutes. The intellectual was sure though that Raphael had caught a glimpse of his screen before he closed it and knew he was doing no such thing.

Maybe he could try persuading him? he wondered. It was unlikely though that it would work, seeing as how he’d managed to evade his curfew the last time that way, and Raphael wasn’t the type to fall for the same trick twice.

He sighed again, more indignantly this time, as he accepted this defeat. There was no getting out of this.

"You could have at least let me shut it down properly…" Don grumbled as they finally stepped into the bedroom where Leo and Mikey were already in their respective beds, covers pulled over them and seemingly well asleep. He could tell though by the unusual stillness where there would be tossing and silence where there is snoring that they were both still awake.

Raph smirked, “The last time we let you do that, you managed to fake a system error that you claimed need your immediate attention, and then you’re dumb ass ended up staying awake well past 2 in the morning.”

Oh that’s right, he did that too.

Donnie couldn’t help the very much guilty smirk that crossed his face as he chuckled at the memory. Raph cuffing the back of his head only managed to make him laugh again as they continued to his bed between the three others.

Not much was said after. Raph pulled back the sheets while Don removed his glasses and set them aside for the night and climbed in without any more of a fight, settling down like the weight of his exhaustion had just now hit him. He really was tired.

Raph noticed this of course and smirked as he reached down for the collar around the other’s neck, the last and only thing left on him.

"Tired?"

Donnie yawned, smirking back up at the larger turtle, “Nope.”

His next breath was cut off by a gasp as the leather around his neck tightened.

For a moment his eyes fluttered, unfocused, lost in the tight pressure circling his throat

Raphael stroked the top of his head in a soothing gesture. When Don opened his eyes again, he was met with the fuzzy image of his brother smiling down on him.

"You lie like a rug, you know that?"

As he fastened the buckle, he leaned in to kiss the other’s pebbled brow before releasing him to retire to his own bed. Don’s eyes followed after him, his hand coming up to stroke the leather about his neck as he watched the older lay down. He looked over at the others, finding that they too had finally gone to sleep after seeing him finally in bed.

\- - -

It came loose over night again.

Perched behind Don in his bed, Leonardo tsk’d under his breath as he set the collar to rights.

"He made it too tight again."

Don huffed, feeling the sting as the eldest fixed the collar to be tighter than it was before, but not tight enough to further irritate the purple bruising that had bloomed under his skin over night. It hurt, it hurt every time he moved, with every breath he took, but it wasn’t a hurt he had come to associate as being bad.

After kissing the skin and finishing their morning ritual with the buckling of the collar, Leo stood from the bed and motioned for Don to follow for breakfast.

Picking up his glasses, Don followed, ready to officially start the day.


	3. FOR SCIENCE (Don/Mikey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey goads Donnie into practicing kissing.
> 
> Because of course he does.

Mikey leans in closer to speak over the noise of their brothers’ heated argument in the other room, “Just imagine this as another one of your experiments,” and Donnie tries to, honestly he does, he tries to picture himself doing this in his lab under controlled conditions in a familiar space, but he just isn’t capable of detaching himself from the situation at hand; like this could be compared to observing cultures in petri dishes or assembling otherwise useless junk into tech.

"This doesn’t exactly fall under my field of study, Mikey," Donnie sighs in weak exasperation as he squirms in place but otherwise makes no move to protest as the young ninja scoots even closer to him on the floor, another spike of anxiety lurching in his gut as two hands take hold of his rapidly heating face, "just do what you need to do so I can get back to real experiments of actual importance."

Donatello can see the smart-ass remark manifest itself behind the other’s bright eyes, and he actually narrows his own back behind his glasses, daring for his brother to say it after he’d agreed to this ridiculous ‘experiment' of his; but Mikey says nothing, only yanks him forward suddenly by the purple tails of his headband into a kiss that has their snouts crushed awkwardly together and leaves Donnie's stomach in knots.

Five minutes in though, after much trial and error, they’ve finally settled into a pace; their mouths opening and closing together with ease, relaxed and unhurried, and Donnie is too far gone to care about any noises he may be making, or notice the open door and the sudden silence in the other room.


	4. Three's a Crowd (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from tumblr, where Mikey walks in on Don and Raph doing it.
> 
> So eyyy, sex. For like a few sentences but still, sex.
> 
> Has turtle anatomy. Like, natural turtle anatomy, like cloacas, so if that squicks you look away.

It was one of those days that were few and far between—no early morning training sessions, no group meditation, no need for a supply run to the surface and no scheduled maintenance checks to be bothered with—it was a day where they were without cause and were free to do whatever they wished.

"Fuck, R-Raphie…" the tall mutant breathed out as he slowly sank back onto his mate’s flared cock, his body trembling as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he used a single shaking hand to guide him to his tail. "Oh God, missed this…"

Raphael smirked up at his mate’s flustered face—brows knit and bottom lip worried between crooked teeth—as he ran his hands up the genius turtle’s chest, stroking where rough scutes fused with softer skin then down again to the strong, lovely thighs framing his hips and digging into the mattress on his sides. Normally firm muscles quivered like jelly under his palms as Donnie slid down his length, slowly taking all of him in, inch by inch. The sai wielder could feel the flutter of muscles constricting and pulsing around his cock, urging his length in deeper inside for his mate to receive him, and large turtle couldn’t help but comply and buck up into that tight heat. 

"Ah, ahh, oh fuck, ohfuck _Raph_ ,” Donatello gasped in between puffs of air, bracing both hands on either side of the larger turtle’s head as he started to move with the other’s shallow thrusts, “fuck I missed your cock.”

Raph’s laugh was cut off by another churr as it crawled its way up his throat, breaking off into a hoarse moan. “Mmmm, ah missed that dirty mouth of yours,” he reached around and stroked the length of Donnie’s sensitive tail, pinching just below his speared cloaca and making the prodigious genius keen and squirm on his stock in fevered need, “say some more.”

"Ugh please don’t."

"OH MY GOSH!" Donnie jumped up as if he’d just been shocked, falling off the bed carapace-first and landing with an undignified yelp.

Raph’s head whipped around, eyes seeing red and finding none other than his youngest brother standing in the door way, bag of chips and orange crush in hand, looking incredibly nonchalant for someone in his current situation. The fact only seemed to make Raph angrier.

"What the fuck Mikey! Get the hell outta here!"

Mikey rolled his eyes and proceeded into the room anyways.

"Dudes, we share the same bedroom, you can’t just do the do and not expect one of us to walk in while you’re still doing,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly as he plopped himself down in the bed that was marked off as his own, orange sheets and all, and tore into his bag of junk food. “Just pretend like I’m not even here!”

Torn between frustrations (either take Donnie somewhere else, or take the little shit out), Raphael palmed his face in exasperation, knowing that he couldn’t just force him out of his own room; the fact that Mikey was right making him all the more angrier. There was no point in arguing though, Mikey could be immovable when he wanted to be, and this was certainly one of those times; and besides, the moment was gone and his erection had already retreated back inside his tail.

Groaning, he sat up and peered over the side of the bed where Donnie had fallen and had yet to get up. He was still on the floor, red in embarrassment and hunched in on himself as if he could retreat back into his shell like when he was younger. “You alright?”

"Yeah," Donnie replied, wincing as he shifted the slightest bit, "I just… ehm, _removed myself_ rather quickly.”

"Oh," he at least had the courtesy to be embarrassed with his lover, Michelangelo was still in his bed, snaking and reading his comics like nothing had happened, "are you going to be okay?"

"My tail will be fine. Can’t say the same about my pride though," Donatello joked halfheartedly as he slowly stood himself up, refusing Raph’s had when offered it. "I’m just… going to go now. Don’t worry about it."

And with that he shuffled off, tail literally between his legs.

Raphael quickly stood up to follow, only sparing enough time to smack the youngest turtle upside the head, sending him to the floor with a satisfying thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon is that Donnie doesn't curse, like, at all in normal conversation no matter the situation, but during sex he gets a little dirty mouth. :p


	5. Bump (Don/Mikey)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More crappy unfinished porn, no cloacas this time though.
> 
> Done with this idea in mind that they do the shoving thing that turtles in the wild do when they want to mate.
> 
> And because there needed to be more Mikey/Don, specifically Mikey/Don where Mikey is on top.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Basically we need more top!Mikey, is what I'm saying.~~

Donnie smelled him coming long before the heavy thud of feet even reached his ears, so when a strong shoulder catches the rim of his shell he doesn’t bat an eye, hardly even reacts at all. The contact was so brief and barely there, he might have mistaken it for an accident, if not for the smell the other turtle brought with him to his little designated corner of the liar.

Mikey absolutely reeks of sex, his arousal evident before he was even in earshot of the genius, and Donnie could feel that particular heat building up underneath his shell just having the other near him in such a state.

He pretended not to notice though as the smaller turtle bumped up against his side again, more insistent this time as their shells clacked noisily together. His body betrayed him and shivered at vibrations the scrape of their shells caused, but his eyes remained glued to his many salvaged monitors as if the other wasn’t even there. They’ve talked about this before and Mikey knew better than to come to him while he was working, and he wasn’t about to change that rule.

The younger turtle was notorious for his persistence though and is not so easily deterred when it came to something he wanted, and continued his onslaught of pushes and shoves, prying for his older brother’s attention. With each nudge and bump, Donatello could feel another piece of his resistance being chipped away.

"You know words, Mikey," Donnie eventually grunted after a considerably harder shove to an increasingly tender part of his arm, "use them."

"I’m horny."

Donnie rolled his eyes.

"Lovely choice of words, your finesse very nearly rivals Raph’s. And of course you are, you smell like you just took a bath in pheromones." Donnie shoved his little brother, but by the way his snout wrinkled it was anything but an invitation to continue. "Go bother someone else, I’m busy."

"Dude, you don’t think I tried that? I wouldn’t even be here if Leo and Raph hadn’t gotten into another one of their stupid arguments. They’re acting like total wet blankets moping around and aren’t in the mood for anything."

"And you think I am?"

Mikey whined— actually whined, high and in the back of his throat, like a spoiled child begging for a toy—and returned to his place pressed up beside the seated turtle, nudging him encouragingly to get out of his chair. “C’mon, please?”

“Michelangelo.”

“ _Pleeeeeeease_?”

The genius refused to look at him, but it didn’t matter, he could still feel the look the younger male was giving him. His wide blue eyes boring into him, desperate and pleading as he gave a last little nudge.

"Please?"

Donnie sighed in annoyance as he pushed himself away from his desk. Already Mikey was bouncing excitedly in his place, knowing he’d won.

"Alright alright, fine. Just give me a few minutes to shut down here, but don’t you ever bother me again while I’m working, are we clear."

"Crystal, bruhh."

——

Red in the face and shaking in anticipation, Donnie spread his legs just a little bit further and lifted his tail as he settled down on hands and knees.

He could feel Mikey’s chest as it scraped over his shell, the perfect concave in his lower plastron giving the young turtle that extra bit of reach he needed to fold along the genius’ carapace and send teasing little vibrations down his spine with every move he made. He could feel the warmth penetrating through him where Mikey’s lips grazed over his shell, shivered in anticipation whenever those teeth sought out a particular groove to latch on to before he thrusted into him.

Don cried out, hands scrambling along the floor for something to grab as he was breached, shoved forward by the force of it. Mikey bit down on his shell, harder, and his arms constricted around his partner as a small churr bubbled up from his throat.

"Ahhh, Donnie…"

As much as it pained Donatello to admit it, Mikey wasn’t the incompetent child he led on to believe; he knew what he was doing.

"Fuck, so good…" 

Another hard thrust had him fighting for balance again, and just nearly did he save his glasses from falling off the tip of his nose before quickly bracing himself again.

The muscles in his arms turned to jelly though the moment Mikey’s hands moved further down his body, fingering the folds in the slit that held his penis.

Donnie whimpered, the heat inside him growing, burning, as Mikey’s teeth dug into his shell and he upped his pace.

He pressed in with both fingers, grazing the head of Don’s erection before spreading him open, and his glasses clattered to the floor as he dropped down into his younger brother’s waiting palm.

Mikey certainly knew what he was doing, and he was anything but a selfish lover.


	6. Sizes (Don/Mikey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey doesn't like being reminded of how short he is. Kind of difficult though when you're in a relationship with the tallest dude you know.

Mikey was always the shortest in their little family, the runt of the proverbial litter. The day he stood up from the table after dinner and realized he'd outgrown Splinter had been the best day of his young life. He'd spent the rest of that evening teasing Leo, the second shortest, that he would be catching up to him soon, but that day had yet to come. Probably never would.

His status as runt was never going to change, Mikey knew that, and he had come to terms with that and was mostly okay with it now. Mostly.

How he felt and how he looked, though, they conflicted so much with each other nowadays. When he was younger he might have been able to ignore it, but now... it felt all wrong, like somewhere along the line his body had just stopped when he still had so much more to give. Inside, he felt like he could be taller than Donnie, more agile than Leo, larger, and more intimidating than Raph even. But outside he was only a little turtle. A pipsqueak among giants.

He learned to deal with it though by developing his own ways to assert himself with his older brothers. He wasn't top dog around the lair, wasn't eight feet of walking muscle, but he liked to think he more than made up for it with his big personality. Being loud, independent, in everyone's face, that's how he built himself up where he couldn't reach, by acting bigger than he really was. And that worked for him.

But then he had to go and get involved with their resident beanstalk, the one who looked down on everyone, the one who had to slouch and bend over half the time just so he wouldn't hit his large brainiac head on something.

Their height difference was never more painfully obvious than when Mikey had to stand on his toes and yank the dork down to his level to properly kiss him.

And now here he was, the biggest insult to his size yet, _the little spoon_.

For a time, Mikey had gone out of his way to make sure that _he_ \- _not Don_ \- was the big spoon. Either by waiting for Don to get into bed first and sneaking up on him, or simply flipping him whenever Don tried to get behind him, he just wouldn't let it happen.

And it was awkward, the angle always wrong, and his arms, strong as they were, couldn't completely wrap around Don with his massive shell in the way, no matter how he tried; but he refused to give. Don endured of course, ever the passive one, but he could only take the discomfort for so long before he had to say something.

Now, Mikey was fuming. Curled over on his side, Don's plastron folded over his carapace, warm breath ghosting over the top of his head... he hated it.

Or really he should hate it, but he didn't, and he hated that. That he couldn't hate it.

It felt better than right. The way Donnie kissed the back of his head before settling into bed, the way he would shift in his sleep and tighten his hold on him at night; the warmth he felt being so close to his brother and the feeling of his fingers drumming against his chest, rubbing soothing circles into his protective plating that never failed to put him right to sleep. It could only be described as bliss.

He loathed being the shortest one, he hated that he felt like he should be more than he is. But maybe, he thought, leaning further back more into Don's comforting hold, being little had its perks.


	7. Subordinate (Leo/Don)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dom/sub fantasy, unrequited, still no beta

Part of him would always be ashamed. He shouldn't be getting pleasure out of this, but it was a sight that Leo knew he would never tire of.

Watching as he sank down to his knees in front of him, bowing submissively _to him_ , no fight, no complaints, something he got so little of even while being leader. But not from him. He was more than willing to follow.

Leo smiled and ran his hand appreciatively over the other's head, stroking along the ridge of his pebbled brow, around his cheeks and under his chin. He leaned into every touch as a silent beg for more. 

"Such a good little pet."

Leo traced his thumb along the seam of his soft lips, pressing only the slightest bit before they parted easily for him, licking at the single digit like an unspoken promise. Leo couldn't help but chase it, allowing his subordinate to kiss and lick at his fingers a few moments longer before releasing him. 

He went for his belts, unclasping and removing the last of his gear as he watched his subordinate continue to kneel, waiting for his next command. Just as he'd been trained to do, like the obedient pet he is.

"Do you want your reward, pet?"

Donnie looked up at him then, eyes dark, naked beneath him in nothing but his glasses. His hands, once still atop his thighs, curled reflexively as he licked his lips. Still tasting him there and wanting more. "Yes, Master."

\- - - -

His eyes slowly blinked open and he was met by darkness. Around him he could hear the combined sound of his brother's sleeping, snoring, shifting around in their beds as they moved to stay comfortable.

Leo glanced to his left, making out the shapes of Raphael and Michelangelo in the dark, counting the steady rise and fall of their shells until he was satisfied that they were asleep, then looked over to his right. Donatello, glasses gone and splayed out carapace down, was asleep as well. A knot twisted in his gut when he noticed how his mouth hung open, his lips parted the smallest bit.

He looked away, feeling his already warm body start to heat up, and fought it.

It's gotten easier in the past few days. The dreams were still as frequent as ever, but he could control himself better now. He no longer woke them up at night with his talking and mumbling, and he could now meet Donnie's eyes every morning without the embarrassment and urge to look away taking over.

Still, this couldn't continue. He shouldn't allow it to. As leader he should have better control than this, especially his own body.

It was his duty, in order to be the best he could be, for the safety of his team.

Leo closed his eyes and rolled over, groaning into his pillow.

He was going to have to do some _serious_  meditation in the morning.


	8. Feast (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd, cloacas, and oral sex
> 
> you have been warned

He gasps suddenly, grasping at the purple sheets spilling over the rim of his bed as another spike of pleasure rakes up every notch in his spine. His legs tense at the shock, drawing together on instinct as he fights to keep his voice down; but instead of together, they clamp around the solid mass kneeling at the front of his bed. Between his thighs, Raph gives a slow chuckle, grasping his mate’s hips tightly and pressing his tongue deeper.

” _Oh–_ " Donnie draws his lower lip between his teeth, a near desperate whine crawling up the back of his throat as he’s speared opened again on the other’s wonderfully thick tongue. He can feel every flick, every twist of the deft muscle inside of him as Raph ties his very insides into knots with his tongue. In his head he’s begging, pleading, louder than the blood rushing through his head as he rocks himself up into Raph’s mouth; needing him deeper, but too afraid to say anything, not trusting his own voice.

One hand releases its death hold on his sheets instead, quickly snapping down and clenching again around the red material covering the large turtle’s head. He tugs, turning his head into his pillow, and moans.

And Raphael _churrs_ –the noise deep in his chest, the vibrations enough to make him choke on another hoarse moan–and pulls back against the hold just enough to suck a wet kiss over his throbbing opening. Don writhes as his tail squirms under his lips, the assault almost too much. 

He churrs back, softly. “Please.”

When he thrusts his tongue in again, deeper than before, Donnie nearly screams, only just managing to stifle it against his pillow as he yanks on the abused mask in his grip.

The hand on Raph’s head is trembling, the olive thighs framing his face not enough to cover up the noises pouring from his mouth with little half finished cries of, “ _oh yes, fuck Raph, pleaseplease_ –" and he adjusts himself, pressing closer and reaching between his legs to stroke his own arousal.

Another thrust of his tongue though, a barely there flick over the head of his hidden member, and Donnie’s coming, shaking on the bed and clenching desperately around him as a bitter-sweet warmth floods over Raph’s tongue. He doesn’t let up until the last of the tremors stop, and his own come has streaked the floor.

Donnie’s legs fall limply from his shoulders several seconds later, eyes closed, and chest heaving as he pants into the sweat dampened sheets. When the genius finally cracks open his eyes and looks down, he’s met with the sight of his maskless mate still sitting between his spread legs, licking the last of the remains from his lips and watching him with a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gross . _.


	9. Eggs (OT4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie can lay eggs. It's not so much a gift as it is a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a fan of mpreg. But I am a fan of angst. 
> 
> This is just an idea that I've thrown around in my head a lot.
> 
> And I mean come on... even if they're still technically the same species, their DNA's been mutated to hell. There should be no way they can have kids.

It’s always the same, and by the third clutch he’s stopped hoping. Now, he just wants to get rid of them and be done with it, to get back to whatever normality is left in their already unusual lives, but with his brothers’ constant insistence he gives in and leaves the six new eggs to incubate. For three months he doesn’t touch them, doesn’t even look at them. He’d only just accepted that it wasn’t happening, he didn’t want to start hoping again.

Several days after they should have hatched, Donnie finally can’t take it anymore, the elephant in the room that is that stupid incubator. He takes the eggs–every one of them dull, grey, and deformed–and rids of them himself.

He manages to hold himself together for the first two, but by the third he breaks. 

By the time he’s back in the lair he’s no longer crying, but his eyes and the dampness of his mask tell enough.

They apologize profusely once they see what’s happened, but he just tells them to let it be. He doesn’t want to think or talk about eggs again, until the next clutch eventually starts developing.


	10. Snowball (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Don’t you dare throw that snowba—goddamnit!”

"Don’t you dare throw that snowba—goddamnit!”

Don yelped as the loosley packed ball of slush smacked into his face, sending his glasses flying and him toppling back on his shell, into a separate pile of dirty snow and debris.

"Hahaha! Timber!"

Even glasses-less, his already poor sight blurred further by melted the snow and dirt dripping down his face, he could still make out Mikey’s form doubled over, pointing, and laughing. Huffing, he shook away the snow still falling on his head through the grates above and cautiously pushed himself back on to unsteady feet. As appealing as revenge seemed at that moment, and as much as he wanted to shove a fist full of snow down his annoying brother’s throat, there were more urgent matters to attend to first.

"If you broke my glasses I swear to God, Mikey—" He was cut off again by another snowball, but instead of him, it smacked into Mikey’s face with enough force to send the more balanced brother skidding across the icy floor on his back, his cry of surprise echoing down the sewer. Surprised, Don turned around to see the blurry shape of Raph wiping the remaining snow from his hands.

"Not so fun is it, squirt?" Raph called down the tunnel, the smirk evident in his voice as he crouched down to retrieve the glasses that’d flown off Don’s face when he’d been hit.

" _Thank you_ , Raph," Don sighed in relief as he turned around to face him, grateful that his immediate older brother had also volunteered to come along with him on this little venture, and he wasn’t just with the youngest. He didn’t want to think how long he would have been crawling around in the dark looking for his glasses while listening to Mikey’s teasing, if it hadn’t been for him.

"Yeah yeah," Raphael dismissed, briefly cleaning away any snow or dirt that may be clinging to the lenses before handing them back to the slightly taller turtle, “‘s all good?"

Don wiped the melted snow from his eyes before putting his glasses back on his face, blinking as the world and Raph’s concerned face came rushing back into focus. Smudged and dirty, but still focused, with no cracks to be found.

He smiled gratefully at his older brother, “All good—” and then another goddamn snowball soared through the air, exploding in a burst of cold against the back of his head. He jerked forward and shouted, out of pure surprise reflex more than anything, but any sound that would have come out of his mouth was muffled as he collided suddenly into Raph’s.

Their noses jammed together, their teeth clacked, and Don very nearly fell onto his shell again when he felt Raph’s lips gasp against his own.

Just as quickly he jerked back, whipping around to see Mikey up again and hastily packing another snowball in his hands.

"Michelangelo! _Enough_ with the snowballs!"

At that moment, he’d rather risk another snowball to the face and another damaged pair of glasses than have to deal with the embarrassment of looking back at Raph and acknowledging what just happened. He charged forward instead, determined to shove his baby brother’s head into the closest pile.


	11. Make Me (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Come over here and make me."
> 
> There's a cloaca so... if that's weird to you look away haha

"Come over here and make me."

His eyes darken, and Don knows he’s done it.

"Wait-wait, no–" It’s too late though. Raph is already on the move, striding toward him, eyes hard and nostrils flared. Don knocks over his desk chair in the speed he launches himself up with, but it’s still not fast enough. Raphael is on him in that second, massive arms encircling him, powerful muscles holding him tight and crowding him, forcing him back, until his shell hits the cluttered desk with a resounding thud. He braces himself then, waiting for the stronger turtle to reach around and unplug the main power source, undo hours of work and observation, and haul him bodily to their sleeping area as he’s done time and time before when the genius tested his patience. It feels odd this time though, different.

He’s surprised when Raph’s hands move behind him and they don’t immediately go for the cables. Instead he presses closer, grip unyielding and breath like hot gravel against his neck.

"Not tired, huh?" Don’s eyes widen and he sucks in a shuttered breath as one of his large hands drops down to grasp his tail, stroking him leisurely up and down in his calloused grip. "I can fix that for you." He squirms, already starting to feel his insides stir at the stimulation, crawling through his gut and up his throat in the form of a treacherous churr that he desperately bites back.

"Ahha, Raph, what are you…" Another tremor shakes his body and he jerks forward, gasping, as a single digit traces over his entrance. For a moment that’s all he can focus on, no work or data mines or even their own security, just Raphael’s sure hands teasing him into a compliant mess.

The proverbial nail in his coffin slams down as one thick finger dips into his cloaca. His knees wobble feebly, ready to give out any second now, and the only thing holding him up are his mate’s arms, the table he’s pressed against, and the driving need for more.

Raphael’s laugh vibrates into his skin as he kisses his skin, feeling the trapped sounds bubbling up in his throat, and knowing that he’s won. “Do you want me to stop?”

Donatello moaned as a second finger thrusts inside of him, his hands scrambling for purchase against the larger turtle’s shell and holding on tight. He shakes his head aggressively.

"Don’t you dare."


	12. Eggs v2 (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shit about Don laying eggs. Just a little blurb to go with something I drew on my tumblr.  
> Slightly obsessive!Raph too so... /shrug
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also bribery time, if anyone writes me something, idc what, involving Donnie and eggs I will draw you whatever you want, no joke, I'm that desperate for more of this gross shit~~

Brow knit and dotted with sweat, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line, and the only noise out of him is the occasional huff or whine. The look on his face is of pure concentration as he pushes, each breath and movement thought out and measured as he lays his clutch on the floor surrounded in pillows and blankets; his own little makeshift nest. It sets a fire in Raph’s gut that makes him want to take his mate again when he’s done, while he’s still open and wet, ready and willing to receive his seed again.

It’s not so much the sight of it that gets to him, but the knowing; the knowledge that those eggs are in part because of him, not someone else. He knows it’s not a healthy thought to have, but seeing his mate get heavier as each clutch develops, being there and having that front row seat as he slowly lays each individual one, it only serves to solidify that fact to him. That Don is _his_. And no one else’s.


	13. Soap (Don/Leo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from my tumblr: "it’s basically, like, when any of them bathe it’s like they lose their particular scent and the others smell them and it’s like they’re a blank slate at that point, begging to be marked by something, and for whoever just had a bath sex is almost inevitable lol"
> 
> So that, without the sex, because I got lazy.

He’s fresh from his bath, completely naked except for a pair of striped boxers hanging off his skinny hips and his skin still damp with water as he walks across the lair to his desk, bare feet padding dully along the concrete floor as he went. Without his glasses his movements are slower than usual, moving forward with added caution through the mess of random items strewn around the room towards his computer chair, and from his own reading chair set in front of the glowing monitors and screens Leo watched, his presence apparently unknown to the other turtle as he padded on by without a glance or a single sound in acknowledgment.

At first it’s just to make sure the second youngest didn’t trip over anything on his way to his precious technology. But as he walked by, Leo couldn’t help but pause mid-sentence in his book, his nostrils flaring slightly, as the sudden smell invading his nose proved too much of a distraction to ignore.

It wasn’t Don’s usual musk or any of the familiar smells associated with the genius, and it certainly wasn’t any of their’s either. Just the smooth, almost foreign scent of soap and water that trailed along with the other like an empty breeze.

The speed with which it had Leo up on his feet and striding across that remaining bit of space was almost embarrassing.

Don of course heard him the moment his book was set aside and quickly spun around to see who else was there with him, but by the time he was able to identify which turtle was coming towards him Leo was already there, his hands locked around his upper arms, dragging him back towards the couch as he strained to press his nose into the grove of the taller teen’s lean neck.

Due to their living conditions, bathing was a luxury that was few and far in between for them, and being animals and turtles besides they weren’t inclined to do much more than soak for a few minutes when they actually did. They’re own, natural smell was always preferred though over any combination of lavender and suds, and so soap was only ever used when they had gone through something to get them exceptionally filthy and they needed to clean their shells. It’s what had Leo pondering over what Don must have gone through to warrant this as he pulled his bother down without a fight, licking and tasting the bitter remnants of soap across the younger’s collar where once he would have found sweat, and reaching between his legs to grasp his twitching tail through his boxers.

He resolved to ask him later, once he’d coaxed that familiar scent to the surface and got Donnie smelling like himself again.


	14. Easter (Gen./Implied)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Can you write about the turtles celebrating Easter since it's tomorrow? :)"

“Hey Donnie, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.” Don hummed as he continued to scroll aimlessly through his current screen, head propped lazily in his hand, and obviously not paying attention to his younger brother.

“You didn’t throw out your eggs yet, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“Are you going to soon?”

“Mhph, later.”

“Do you want me to take care of them for you?”

“Thanks Mikey.” He clicked through another link, done with the one-sided conversation, and his brother.

Mikey grinned and spun on his heel to leave, calling over his shoulder, “No problem!”

Later that evening, Donnie couldn’t wait to get into bed and sleep. Today the systems had been relatively error free, giving him all the time to do what he wanted (mostly games and some mindless internet), and tonight he planned on finally getting those 8 hours of sleep that have eluded him for so long. He was even retiring early, much earlier than the others, that’s how much he was looking forward to this night of uninterrupted sleep.

He just barely managed to stop himself from falling into bed though when a little round object caught his eye, its particular shade of purple enough for it to blend into his bedsheets almost seamlessly. Was Mikey planting water balloons in their beds again? Or was this another whoopee cushion?

Further inspection though, and what was once purple turned red as he stormed from the bedroom, object in hand, fuming.

“What the hell is this!”

“Donnie found the first egg!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [maniacal laughter echos in the distance]
> 
> And in other news: I have no idea how Easter really works.


	15. Last Kiss (Don/Raph)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from tumblr: Last kiss.

“Don’t–”

His eyes burn with ash and tears.

“Raph, please…”

He can’t stop crying.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…”

He doesn’t want it to end like this. He doesn’t want their final moments together to be blurred in tears. He doesn’t want Don’s last words to be hushed whispers to comfort him.

But he can’t talk. His throat’s closed up. All because his worst nightmare’s finally come true.

“Donnie–” he steels his voice against the sobs that threaten to shake his chest “–I love you… so much…”

Don smiles up at him and reaches for his hand, squeezing it weakly, and he squeezes back.

“I love you too.”

He’s fading fast. He’s not ready for him to go yet.

Raph shakes his head against the inevitable, tears dripping down his cheeks, and pulls Don’s lax body close to his chest as tight as he dared for a last kiss.

He used to taste of coffee and mint. Now, all he tastes is blood.


	16. (Raph/Don)(Leo/Don)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 prompts I got from an ask meme on tumblr (Raph/Don and Leo/Don) that I decided put all in the same chapter, just cause.

**"You're such a tease." Raph/Don**

Raph’s hands felt their way down his chest as he kissed him, tracing along the few and familiar scratches and grooves etched into his scutes before unclasping one of his suspenders from his belt. He slowly kissed down the length of his neck before undoing the other.

“You are such a tease,” Donnie murmured and let out a breathy little laugh at a particularly sharp nip at his collar, as his own hands quickly reached between them to push his mate’s loincloth down and out of the way, until the brown leathers pooled at their feet. Raph pressed in closer as soon as those hands moved away, disturbing the contents of the table he currently had his mate pressed against as he slowly ground himself between his open legs, making his arousal very clear to the pinned turtle.

Don let out a moan of frustration as the larger turtle continued to move against him, the panels still covering his lower body not allowing him the satisfaction of feeling his mate, skin to skin. “Are you at least going to try finishing undressing me by the end of the night?”

“You bet your ass I will,” Raph growled into his neck, his hands slowly stroking up his thighs to pull their wrappings loose, exposing more skin to his warm touch, “I’m just going to take my sweet time doing it.”

“Well, that’s not very efficient.”

“No, it’s not,” Raphael agreed with a smug smirk, again bypassing Don’s belt entirely, in favor of delving underneath to tease and pull at his dark underwear and his twitching tail trapped inside them, “but it is fun seeing you get all hot and bothered when you don’t get what you want.”

––––

**"I just want to watch you." Leo/Don**

He dropped down to the floor with a frustrated grunt. He didn’t bother with folding his legs the correct way, or lighting any candles as he usually would, just planted his hands on his knees in a white-knuckled grip and started his breathing.

Several minutes later, he felt a presence linger at his door before finally coming in. It lingered, still, tentatively near the entryway, before finally moving around the perimeter, a faint warmth following its path as the candles previously neglected were finally lit. Familiar hands soon descended upon his shoulders, and their expert fingers began kneading at his muscles in attempt to massage the tension away. Leo, for his credit, released a deep sigh to try helping expel the negative energies pent up inside, but his tension remained glaringly obvious in the force behind his breath, and the furrowed knit in his brow.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Donatello spoke in his usual calm, rational voice, “you know how he gets, he gets worked up and he doesn’t think before he acts.”

“I shouldn’t have let him go.”

“He didn’t leave that open to discussion.”

“I should have made him stay.”

Don sighed and dropped to his knees behind his stressed elder brother, feeling his frustration rising through his fingertips even as he continued his attempts to calm him down. Their leader wasn’t about to lash out in anger, or vent to him all his frustrations–he’s too internal with his emotions and level-headed for that–but keeping all that anger inside wasn’t any healthier for him than Raphael’s running away.

And this time, it’s the worst he’s seen it. Don hadn’t been there for the argument, or what sparked the wick that led to their explosion, but he’d been present for the aftermath, his older brothers shouting at each other at such levels that could be heard over the volume of his headphones, and the echoing slam of the sewer hatch as Raphael ran from their home. He’d kept himself removed for a while longer, in order to give Leo his time to collect his thoughts, and to keep Mikey from running after their other brother while in such a sensitive state; but now, it seems, that time wasn’t enough.

He massaged up his neck, the cords tight with his clenched jaw, then back down across his shoulders again, naming off the individual muscles in his head as he moved down his arms.

Slowly, he pressed closer, until his chest was molded to the curve of his shell.

“You beat yourself up too much,” Don murmured, not so much massaging anymore as he was stroking his arms, slowly up and down, until Leo’s breathing started to change. He smiled, knowingly, and gently kissed his neck before standing and circling his leader’s meditating form, and settling down again in front of him. His eyes remained closed, but he knew he was listening when he spoke, “Raphael has a temper, it’s true, it’s a part of his nature, and we all know that. But his inability to follow in his rage doesn’t make your position as leader any less vital to us.”

When he went to kiss him again, on the lips this time, Leo returned it in kind, groaning under his breath when Donnie pulled away from him.

“We still need you,” Don whispered, hands moving down his shoulders to his gently heaving chest, “Raph needs you,” he kissed him again, “Mikey needs you,” deeper, dragging his hands down, “I need you…”

He’s caught by surprise as Leo’s hands suddenly snapped to his, catching his wrists, and stopping his movements. His eyes opened finally, and the heat Don sees there is unmistakable, matched only by the flames dancing in the corners of his dark irises.

“No.” At first, he is confused and ashamed, thinking this was any way to help. He moved back, taking the rejection with only the slightest sting of pain.

Then Leo pulled him forward, covering his mouth in a brutal kiss that leaves him gasping for breath when he pulls away. He growls, his voice a puff of heat against his wet lips.

“I just want to watch you.”

His heart thumps in his chest.

He can’t help but feel even more embarrassed then. This isn’t what he’d planned on happening (granted, he hadn’t planned initiating anything when he’d first come in either), and he would have never anticipated his brother reacting like this. But still, he can’t deny the little pangs in his gut, thinking about those tactical eyes watching him do what he would usually keep behind closed doors and to himself.

The usually composed turtle steels himself against stuttering. “Will that help?”

Leo nodded, a sudden nervousness that was so atypical of him coming about. “I-I just need someone to listen to me, to…” he swallowed thickly as he thumbed the other’s hands, still resting in his grip, “to do what I say. Please.”

Donnie held his gaze for a moment, feeling the arousal he’d been repressing in favor of focusing on his elder’s needs slowly build in his gut, until the heat he felt matched what he saw in the Leader’s eyes.

He nodded. “Alright then. What would you have of me?”

Leonardo quickly squeezed his hands before releasing his hold on his wrists, returning his own to his knees, and gripping them tightly. “Lean back, and spread your legs,” he husked, “I want to see everything.”


	17. Sharing (Dark Mikey/Dark Don)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenative title: _The Sharing and/or Courting Rituals of The Cloned Mutant Turtle_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You're a real stupid one, aren't you?"

He’d been catching the yellow turtle sneaking food more often than usual during their down times. Though “sneaking” wasn’t exactly what Dark Donatello would describe it as. With the amount of fanfare the mindless clone gave himself, it was more like parading.

None of them were trained ninjas like the troublesome turtles they were cloned from and made to destroy, but it was like the smallest dark turtle wasn’t even trying to hide what he was doing anymore; stomping around, slamming tiles aside to reach his hidden cache of food, sometimes even monologuing to himself about the tasty meal he was about to indulge himself in. And Donatello swore, that nasally voice could carry for miles, because he _always_ heard it. Michelangelo might as well have been ringing the proverbial dinner bell through a megaphone.

Of course Donatello had always came running, and he’d snatched the food up from the other clone that had been so set on eating it, and tear into the morsel right in front of him before their other two brothers could even get the chance to steal it away from him. (It served Michelangelo right, if the idiot wasn’t even going to try being stealthy about it he should lose his food, as both a punishment and a lesson not to be so incredibly stupid.) But as the time went by, and with each subsequent failed attempt from the yellow clone to eat, the smart turtle grew full, until he wasn’t even running at the sounds of the other’s stomping feet. For the first time in a long time, he was actually sated, and could finally throw himself into his hardware without a portion of his mind lingering on the twisting emptiness in his gut.

Still, he couldn’t help the way his head perked up now, hearing Dark Mikey’s voice somewhere behind, tails dragging across the floors as he sing-songed something about a delicious piece of meat with his name on it. With a shiver, he set down the small mechanism he’d been toying with and placed a clawed hand across his slightly distended stomach; he didn’t think he’d be able to eat any more without getting sick. With a small groan, he decided he’d let the little pest have this one. Or one of the others if they got to him first. He didn’t care either way.

“You’re a real stupid one, aren’t you?“ 

Again, Donatello’s head perked up, but this time in agitation at the other large, blue, turtle looming over him. He raised his lips in a snarl, at the leader’s dominant stance over him and the jab at his much prided over intellect. “ _What_?”

“He wants to share,” Leonardo growled harshly back at him, the struggle to keep his voice down evident in the strain on his face, “he won’t stop until you go. So, for the sake of all of us,  _go_.”  


At that, his scowl dropped purely out of surprise, but the shock quickly wore off and he was back to the same, pissed off face. What Dark Leo had just said was stupid, even more stupid than Dark Mikey’s apparent grab for his attention, and he wasn’t about to sit back and have Leonardo talk to him like that.

“ _You’re_ the stupid one, thinking he wants to share,” he hissed at him, “and so is Mikey, if that’s really what he’s trying to do. You or the meathead can go take whatever it is he’s got if that’s what he wants, I don’t care, but I’m not going anywhere.”  


“If we went over there he’d fight us. _We_ can’t. Mikey wants to share with you specifically, and he won’t stop being obnoxious until he does.”  


Donatello continued to stare at him for several long seconds, eyes narrowed dangerously and calculating, never breaking contact with the one eye challenging him to do something, before he finally scoffed and went back to his mechanism to continue where he’d left off in taking it apart, none too gently ripping the wires out with little care as to what that would mean for him later. “Then he can come over here.” He growled under his breath.

“He won’t,” Leonardo huffed, “he’d sooner throw it at you from across the room than confront you.”  


“ _And why’s that_?” Donatello snapped, the metal crumpling together in his suddenly tight grip. 

Surprisingly, Leonardo didn’t answer, but the silence was answer enough, and it only served to make Donatello even angrier with the other clone standing close to him.

He tossed the ruined technology aside and reached for the next thing closest to his reach, and began to dissect it of its parts.

“I blame you. Ever since we got you back from those turtles, you’ve been changing everything. If anyone’s to go over there and stop this ridiculousness, it’s you.”  


Dark Leonardo huffed and turned away, storming off without another word, and leaving Dark Donatello alone with his pieces of scrap and his thoughts. Though surprised at how easy that was, Donatello wasn’t about to question the peace, and quickly went back to his scrap.

It only lasted a few minutes though, before something heavy slapped him in the face. He squawked, suddenly very blind and unawares of his surroundings, and _not_ very happy about it, before the offending object slowly fell off his face and into his lap, revealing it to be a large piece of steak. He balked, then looked up, seeing Dark Michelangelo and Leonardo standing several feet away, one extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable and the other highly amused.


	18. Wash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted on tumblr. 
> 
> Warnings for torture and brainwashing.

“How does this feel?”

_Tap._

He doesn’t respond

“… And this?”

_Tap._

He hasn’t spoken in weeks.

One of the doctors snaps their fingers several times in front of his face, assuming the drugs they’ve been using to keep him pliant and passive still had him under, but he just turned his head away, from the vibrant white lights above to the empty wall to his left. If there were any distinguishing markers, he wouldn’t know. They took his glasses and everything he had day one.

“Subject is responsive.”

They’re already placing the connectors to his head, his arms and chest, above his plastron, and the tops of his thighs, too impatient to wait for any approval. He notices, out of the corner of his fuzzy vision, several without gloves, and another looking up procedures on their phone, and oh how he wants to roll his eyes at the Foot and their ever incompetent stream of henchmen, but he resists, under the simple fact that they’d still caught him; had him bound and drugged half the time in a cell, then bound and drugged the other half in a lab. Surrounded by these people.

They continue to test his reflexes, watching like vultures for any reaction they could pull out of him. He remains still to the best of his dwindling ability, not wanting to give them the satisfaction, but it’s gotten harder with each passing day, as the drugs steadily built up in his body; they left him in this constant in-between state of both aware and numb, feeling like an outsider looking in, watching unfamiliar faces as they poke and prod at an unresponsive body that wasn’t his.

He just wants to go home.

When they’ve poked and prodded to their content, they ready the real test. An old projector is rolled out while the bed he’s on is adjusted so that he’s sitting up, facing the pulled-down screen. He wants to roll his eyes again when someone has to step forward and readjust the connectors, but he flinches instead as the straps keeping him down are pulled tighter, until there’s almost no give.

When they’re ready, they dim the harsh lighting and turn on the projector.

“Begin.”

Familiar pictures flash up on the screen, the images blurry without his glasses, but he can still make them out. _A house, a city at night, cars, trees,_ he lists the order off mentally as it goes. He’s seen them so often, it’s almost like reciting the alphabet now; it’s ingrained in him, he hardly even has to think about it. Around the thirteenth item, he starts to tense in preparation, knowing what's to come, and he catches his own increasing heart rate from the monitors behind him.

The seventeenth picture is a blurry photo of graffiti on a brick wall, a kanji dripping down the side with black and red spray paint. The image is almost too dark to see, but Don recognizes it instantly as Mikey’s work.

_Family_.

He grits his teeth as electricity courses through him, and he tears his face away from the screen, only to be forced back, the amps increasing before cutting off, leaving his arms twitching at his sides.

The slideshow continues once his eyes are open again.

_A chain-link fence, birds flying in a flock, a car eerily similar to the Foot’s armored trucks, …_

Twenty-seven. He gasps as Mikey’s shadowed form is flashed on the screen, hands tightening into fists and nails digging into his sweaty palms, and another shock is sent through him. His chest heaves as sweat begins to prickle across his brow, he feels as if he might feint.

They give him only a few seconds reprieve before they’re ordering him to look up again.

He shakes his head, slowly, pitifully.

In the back of his drug-idled mind, Donnie knows what they’ve been trying to accomplish here these past several weeks: Pavlovian, classical conditioning. They want him to associate his family with pain. But all he can focus on is the fear, the anxious clicking of each slide, waiting for that shock to come.

He wants to keep his eyes closed, he doesn’t want to have to see anymore and be subjected to this torment. But he’s done this enough already to know what will happen if he doesn’t look…

_The outside of the Metropolitan, a large fountain, a busy street in China Town…_

Thirty-five. When he sees Leo’s body in the static of a security video, mid-jump and katana raised, the pain is almost unbearable. Before the shock even has time to register he’s flinching away, body gone rigid, and he cries out through clenched teeth as the third shock travels through him. 

He swears he can hear his jaw cracking.

The rest of the slides are a blur through watering eyes as his body continues to shake, flinching every other frame.

_Buildings, buildings, buildings and more buildings…_

He looses track of the number.

Through the tears, he sees the red of Raph’s mask, and he’s struck by the phantom pain of several volts of electricity being shot down his spine.

Distantly, he can hear his heart monitor going off in its shrill, loud beeping, as his heart thumps erratically in his chest. The blood rushes through his head. His breathing coming in short, violent bursts as his whole body contracts.

Under that, he can hear a voice, pleading.

_Stop, stop, stop–!!_

When it’s all over, he’s laying on the bed as he was before; strapped down, staring at the ceiling as the doctors checked his vitals. Mortified, knowing that the voice he’d heard crying out had been his own, but he did not recognize it.


	19. Underwater (Raph/Don)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underwater kiss prompt.

Sitting, the water is just deep enough for him so that only the smallest bit of his head breaks above the surface, the sun-warmed water lapping gently over him while the rest remains submerged in the shallow depths. He’s so still, Don honestly would have mistaken his green head for another floating lily pad, if not for the tiny bubbles of air slowly drifting to the surface, and the dark shape lurking just below, hidden among the pondweed.

He’s glad he didn’t bring anything with him out here, so he’s able to tread into the water without fear of getting anything wet that had no business being near water in the first place. It’s a very free, liberating feeling, not having to constantly worry about the condition of his tech or to check on his machines, but at the same time it’s like losing a second skin, like another extension of him is missing; it’s a naked,  _exposed_  feeling that drives him into the protective cover of the water just as fast as his instincts to soak.

He sees Raph’s head turn towards him the second his feet disturb the calm stillness of the water, and his head cranes back, nose breaking the surface for only a few short breaths before going back under. Don has no doubt in his mind that Raph wasn’t just catching his breath then, but that he was scenting the air for who was joining him now in the water, and judging by his lack of response it would seem that he’s satisfied with the answer.

Don smiles to himself, a little more than waist deep now in the lake now, as he feels something brush against his calf that is neither a fish or weed, then quickly trail up to his thigh.  _Definitely more than satisfied_.

As he slowly sinks down into the lake, eyes closed to the initial rush of water against his face, he feels Raph’s hands take his and guide him down to his side, where there is a space free of plants or rocks for him to sit comfortably in the shallows. It takes several seconds, but once Don is confident enough his eyes blink open to a dark underwater scene. The image his blurry, not only because of his poor eyesight but the protective membrane now covering his eyes while under here, but the feeling alone of being completely submerged is enough to make him never want to leave. The rush of water against his ears, the muted sound under the surface, and the sand under his toes coupled together is the most calming thing he’s ever experienced; even Splinter’s meditation exercises had nothing on this.

To his side, Raph nudges him gently and blows a ring of bubbles to grab his attention away from the water. Turning to him, he’s just as dark and blurry as everything else, but Don still sees him, can make out his shape and the contrasting white of his eyes from the thin membrane now covering them, and he’s sure Raph can see much clearer than him but he doesn’t care. He smiles this big, goofy smile, one that says  _this is amazing_ ; and when Raph kisses him, he can feel him smiling back.


	20. Distraction (Leo/Don)

There’s a scent wafting through the air that has Leo’s usually so keen and focused mind suddenly absent from practice. He’d been late, hardly registered a word Master Splinter had said to them, even his lecture on tardiness directed specifically at  _him_  had gone over his head, and now this.

The object of his distraction is standing on the other side of the dojo, watching their brothers and waiting for his turn to spar, but even if Donnie stood on the other end of New York the leader would probably still catch his scent. His smell permeated everything, lingered on every surface, and clung to Leo’s skin just as much as his own scent, making his head spin and his mind blur. And it’s driving him up the fucking wall. If he wasn’t so worried about how he’d look in front of Sensei, he would have feigned illness and asked to excuse himself long ago.

The source of his distraction is Donnie’s as well. His ever vigilant eyes are constantly being drawn down between the taller’s legs, and he can see how he squirms, can  _smell_  the need radiating off of him in heavy waves, and Leo’s mouth waters at the thought of Donnie, hot and wet and absolutely fucking ready underneath those clothes.

Already, he’s thinking about ways to get Donnie away. Excuses for them to leave, alone, into the sewers on the hinge of a lie, so he can get between those long legs and devour him.

When he’s called up next to face a victorious Raphael, Leo approaches the center with vicious intent in his eyes. For the first time this practice, his mind is on something other than Donnie: winning.

He wants to experience the rush of finally touching the desired turtle, of grappling and pinning him bodily underneath him and immersing himself in his rich scent, and he’ll be damned if he gives Raph that pleasure.


	21. Shy (Casey/Donnie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're pretty shy."

“You’re pretty shy.” 

Donnie tenses, then frowns down at the human standing beside him. ‘ _Shy_ ’ was not a trait typically associated as being positive, and with the man’s face obscured and voice muffled by his mask, it was impossible for Don to determine in exactly what context that statement was being given.

Did Casey just insult him?

“What?” Donnie asks, one part curious and another mildly hurt.

“Or at least, you’re shy around me.”

Donnie crosses his arms over his chest, looking away for anything else and settling on the streets below. Maybe to hide his face and any possible indicator that he is blushing underneath all that green. Maybe not. It certainly isn’t because this is their first time alone together (alone-alone, without anyone around) and Casey is confronting him on how they never talk. Nope, not at all.

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you talk to your brothers,” Casey starts, tone casual, “and you talk to April a little. Hell, you even talk to that creep, Vern. You don’t talk to me though.”

“It’s familiarity. I’ve known April and Vern longer than I’ve known you, and April is our guardian and friend besides. Of course I would talk to her.”

“Your brothers think I’m familiar enough to talk to. To invite over even. And invite me out on these little ‘runs’ of yours. That screams friendship to me.” Casey rebuts. “You’re the only one who has a problem talking with me. What gives, Don? You gotta crush on me or somethin’?”

Oh now he really is making fun of him. The teasing cackle in his voice is unmistakable, the elbow to his side pitiful, and normally such a weak shove from a smaller human wouldn’t have even phased him, but being taken so off guard by his words it manages to move Don over several paces. Because for once that snide asshole is right about something.

Donnie quickly rights himself and straightens to his full height, clearing his throat.

“Unlikely.”

Casey scoffs. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t blame you. I mean, _look_  at me.”

Donnie pointedly turns away the second he starts to flex.

“We have a rendezvous to get to.” He deadpans before breaking off in a sprint, mentally cursing himself for his poor taste in men, and leaving the other behind to catch up on his own.


	22. Phone Call (Mikey/Donnie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted with some phone sex/dirty talk on tumblr.

Donnie has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his quiet laughter at bay, but even then a few giggles manage to sneak past his lips. Lucky for him, his partner doesn’t seem to notice.

Never in his life has he felt more ridiculous than he dose now, with his phone balanced carefully between his head and shoulder, one hand slowly and meticulously typing out his next line of code, and the other pressed down between his spread legs.

It’s not the most crude position he’s been in, but it’s awkward, cramped and uncomfortable, and he can vaguely feel his shoulder starting to tense from holding this same pose for so long. But hearing Mikey’s labored breathing in his ear, those little hitches and moans catching in his throat as he pleasures himself in some dark corner on an unknown roof somewhere in the city, is all the encouragement Donnie needs to keep himself going. There’s a pleased, warm rush he feels in his core, not necessarily in doing this but in knowing Mikey couldn’t contain himself until he returned home, couldn’t bear to wait until Leo calls off their run, and had to do this  _now_ ; all because of him and the little unspoken promise he’d given his mate earlier, right before the three of them walked out the door.

It makes him smile, giddy really, as he halfheartedly strokes the length of his tail and imagines the other there with him; that he can feel Mikey’s warm breath against his skin, and they didn’t have this phone between them.

“You sound close,” Donnie purrs quietly into the receiver, very aware of the fact that he may not be as alone as he thinks, “are you going to come so soon?”

He’s delighted by the sound of the younger’s trill of a churr, and he grins into his own face reflected back at him through his computer screen, fractured by lines of code.

“Fuck yeah…” Mikey practically chirps through the phone, and the faint slick sound of his motions speeds up. Donnie allows his eyes to slip close for only a second, imagining Mikey in a similar position with his phone held haphazardly between his cheek and shoulder as he thrusts into his hand, and the genius bites his lip as he gives his own tail a slight squeeze. His soft sigh has Mikey churring back enthusiastically. “A-are you…?”

“Yeah.” Donnie lies. He isn’t close, isn’t even wet, but he isn’t about to spoil his mate’s fun just because he’s more focused on his work in this moment than the actual “moment” itself.

Mikey asks him then, begs, really, to hear him. And Donnie complies, still steadily stroking his tail as he moans into the receiver like he’s moments away from that final peak, and whispers all the filthy things he can manage with a straight face.

The younger comes seconds later, Donatello’s name rasping into the phone with such heat, it makes the genius’ thighs twitch and his insides clench with an anxious need to get the other home  _now_.

“I hope you have some of that energy left when you get back.” Donnie comments later, way too casually for what just happened between them as both his hands return to their job.

Mikey chuckles breathlessly, the sound of his shifting clothing muffled through the receiver as he adjusts himself. “Nah, man, it’s you that better have the energy left when I come home.”

He laughs, shaking his head to himself. “I’m holding you to that.” He ends the call there, smiling still as he puts the rest of his focus back on this code.


	23. Since When (Mikey & Don)(Raph/Don)

“Wait, since when are you gay?”

“Since whe… Since  _always_ , Mikey.” Donnie sighed, as he snatched another magazine out of his younger brother’s grabby hands. “I wasn’t really hiding it.”

“Well you’re hiding  _these_.” Mikey teased with a smirk, only for it to be wiped from his face with a rolled up magazine to the head.

“That’s not what I’m saying Mikey.” Donatello huffed as he stuffed what had to be the last into the small box and shoved it back onto his shelf, sitting inconspicuously between a child’s microscope (his first) and a small box of slides. “What I’m saying is that you had no excuse to be going through my old stuff.”

“Well I mean, I always thought, but I didn’t want to assume, you know? I didn’t want to sound rude by asking, dude.”

“Yes, well I would have preferred you assuming than snooping through my personals.”

“ _Yeah, well_ , I didn’t know that.” Mikey crossed his arms, looking as if he was about to pout, and honestly Donnie was okay with that. Pouting Mikey meant he’d be left alone for a bit, and he’d be given time to forget this whole embarrassing thing ever happened. “All I knew is that you were staring at Raph a helluva lot, and I needed to know what’s up between you two.”

Donnie sputtered.

“You… saw me staring… at Raph…”

“Yeah.” Mikey’s would-be pout quickly turned into a smirk. “Come to think of it, a lot of those magazines you had had some pretty built men on the covers. You have a thing for muscles, Don?”

Donnie rolled his eyes.

“I don’t see what conclusion your coming to.”

“My conclusion? You have a thing for muscles, and so you have a thing for Raph.”

“Raph’s physique looks nothing like anything in those magazines, Mikey.”

“Yeah, he’s bigger.” Mikey cackled at the blush that crossed Donnie’s face. “Though, I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

“ _No_ ,” Donnie growled, “what I need you to do is go away. Now.”

Mikey continued to giggle as he slowly started to step away from his seething older brother. “Don’t worry, bro. Your secret’s safe with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was gonna continue on and show that Raph and Donnie were already in/have been in a relationship for a while now, and it’s just now that Mikey’s caught on (emphasis on those magazines being Donnie’s “old stuff”) but eh
> 
> cut it off kinda awkwardly srry


	24. Stuff (implied OT4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol so... This isn't really meant to be taken seriously. This is just a product of a talk with a friend.
> 
> Contains plushophilia... Kinda. lol

Picking up the old toy brought back memories.

It was new then, the plastic tag still on its ear, like it had fallen out of a shopping bag only minutes after someone had bought it, maybe tumbling out as the person quickly ducked into a cab, or tossed there by a fussy child unbeknownst to their parent; left alone and abandoned in the gutter like a piece of garbage. Whatever child didn't get their promised toy that day must have been so upset, because it really was a cute little thing, just a classic brown teddy bear with black eyes and a stitched nose and mouth... 

But whatever, their loss his gain. It took Mikey all of five seconds to quickly reach out and snatch up the toy for himself as soon as he saw it. And Mikey had taken care of it instead. Carried it everywhere. Showed off his developing skills in front of it. Named it Stuff.

Stuff wasn't looking so hot now though. It had been buried underneath a pile of other toys for who knows how many years, and was thoroughly crushed, its shape slightly flattened, fur matted and dusty.

Mikey felt some amount of guilt holding it, like the bear was silently yelling, glaring at him through those shiny black eyes. How dare you leave me there! After all we've been through!

As Don would say, it wasn't logical. But then again, he wasn't a very logical mutant turtle to begin with.

He washed Stuff that same night, for once actually doing the dishes when he was supposed to just so he would have the sink to use for the little toy's bath. He realized maybe a little too late that dropping a plush toy in water probably wasn't the best way to go about cleaning his childhood possession (Stuff was soaked for hours afterward, even after a solid hour under a hairdryer) but it got the job done.

By ten, Stuff was (mostly) back to looking like its old self; brown and fluffy, if only a little worn and faded; and back on his bed. Mikey felt he owed it to the neglected toy after all that time it had spent, crushed and uncomfortable, at the bottom of the toy pile.

Raphael of course teased him, but fuck him. Dude is emotionally constipated anyway.

Mikey didn't carry Stuff around like he used to, even that was a little much for him. He just kept it on his bed and slept with it some nights, keeping it pillowed under his cheek like he did as a young turtle. Even after the bath, underneath all that lavender, it still carried the familiar smell of the sewer he called home, and the countless slices of pizza he'd shoved in its face as a child. And if he dug close enough, it even smelled like his brothers, each with their own unique scent that Michelangelo could specifically point out which was which.

He'd been a little shit as a child, still is sort of, and he'd never willingly shared Stuff with his brothers, always running away whenever they tried to take it and rubbing it in their faces when they failed to catch him. But Stuff was the most intact toy they had back then, so of course the others still wanted their turns, despite all of Mikey's insistence that he found Stuff and that by default made Stuff his. Splinter didn't share the same sentiment of course, and made him share.

Leo, Raph, and Don, they had all played with and cuddled the bear at some point. And the evidence still showed, after all these years. Faint and almost hidden underneath the lingering smell of dust, sewer, and overwhelming lavender. But Mikey still caught it.

As a child he'd been annoyed by this. Stuff was his. It shouldn't smell like them.

But times have changed, their relationships have changed...

And Mikey felt like a dirty fuck for even thinking this way, but in his defense the bear totally started it.

Smelling like Raph's musk, like Leo's breath, like the crook of Donnie's neck.

It's a wonder that it took a week for Mikey to wake up one night, snout pressed into the toy's stomach, with his penis out and sandwiched between his body and his mattress. And an even bigger one that it took another three similar happenings for him to finally make the connection.

Though, now he doesn't just wake up to it. He seeks it out, nuzzling into Stuff's plush body, panting into its soft fur as he ruts against his bedsheets and thinks about his brothers, all while drowning in their scents.

If he'd thought Stuff had been glaring at him back then after pulling its crumpled body out of that pile of toys by a threadbare arm, Stuff is absolutely livid now, being held so tightly in his fist and pressed so harshly against his nose, fur bit between clenched teeth and damp with spit, fragile seams almost tearing as Mikey comes in his fist with a muffled groan, an odd combination of his brother's combined names whispering into the material...

Or, Stuff _would_ be livid...

If Stuff was actually a living, sentient thing, capable of seeing, feeling, and hearing...

Which it's not, Mikey reminds himself, setting the bear under his cheek with shuttered breaths and giving it a last nuzzle before resigning himself to sleep. That was a whole different level of weird he did not want to put himself on.


	25. Harder (Raph/Don)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "sentence prompt "You don't have to be so gentle" Raph and Don? Pretty Please?"

They’re still connected, still rocking together with his nose pressed into the crook of his thin neck, when Donnie suddenly nudges him up and rolls them over in the bed with a wordless command. He reverses their positions easily, pushing Raph until he’s sprawled back on his shell, and the prodigal genius is straddling his hips with something almost akin to determination in his eyes, even without his glasses on to properly see. Raph can only stare up at him, chest rising and falling with each deep breath drawing in more of his sweet scent, as he waits to see what he does.

Donnie’s own breathing his shallow and shuttering by comparison as he leans forward on top of him, his hands coming down to brace himself on his wide chest as his thighs spread further, knees digging into the mattress and making it dip on Raph's sides. He’s still keyed up, and the still unfulfilled need coming off of him is almost palpable as he takes one shaking hand away to reach down between his legs, and Raphael breathes a low sigh as his length is firmly grasped. It takes Donnie only a moment to realign before he’s sinking back down on his shaft with a quiet groan.

Raph’s hands immediately raise up to hold and steady his hips, biting back his own moan of pleasure as he’s thrust back again inside his mate; warm and wet and still dripping with his seed from their last bout, but that doesn’t deter him. If anything, the slick glide over his cock as he’s sheathed back inside him only encourages Raph to buck and press himself deeper, making Donnie gasp and his unfocused eyes flutter closed.

“Again?”

“ _Yes_.” Donnie huffs, the faint _scritch_ of his short nails dragging over his scutes making a shiver run Raph’s spine as Donnie’s ass finally meets his skin, and he’s fully seated, buried back to the hilt, completely inside that warm pulsing heat that clutches him so perfectly he has to take a moment just to remind himself to breathe.

Donnie doesn’t wait though. He’s already moving, thighs squeezing him tight as he rocks on top of him. The very image of want and need, riding his lap, selfishly chasing his own release. “This time you don’t have to be so gentle.”

“If that’s what his genius commands.” A smirk tugs at his scared lips as Raph tightens his grip on those attractive hips, his fingers digging into pliant skin as he yanks him down and drives up into a sharp, grinding motion that has Donnie yelping in pleasant surprise as he’s struck deep.

His hands scramble across his chest, petting the rough surface of his scutes and stroking the thick muscles in his neck and actually _trilling_ with pleasure as he drives himself back into Raph’s thrust.

“Oh! T-that's… do that again…”

And Raph watches his face with smug satisfaction as he repeats it, again and again, until the skin purples under his grip and Donnie’s clenching around cock, head tilted back as another orgasm shutters through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short thing. Haven't really written much TMNT stuff lately as I've been getting more and more in to my Transformers stuff, but if you guys have any requests/prompts/whatever I can try and meet them. lol


End file.
